


Shot

by hamiltone



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, BRING THE TISSUE S, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern, Modern AU, duel, panicking hamilton, srsly its hella sad, too much fucking angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltone/pseuds/hamiltone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An angst-fest that is centered around a modern-day Hamilton/Burr duel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boyyyyyy s o
> 
> i've had this idea in mind for a really long time! and apparently nobody has written anything abt it soooooooo
> 
> quick warning for angst, slight fluff, panicking and some graphic descriptions of violence/injury.

“Wait!”

 

 

A voice bellowed throughout the alley. A gunshot echoed off of the concrete walls. Burr watched as his former ally crumpled to the ground, their gun dropping involuntarily from their hands and clattering to the ground. 

 

Coming to the realization of what had just occurred, he immediately rushed over, finding the figure in a half-sitting position, doubled over and clenching their abdomen in pain. 

 

They glanced at Burr warily, scared, brown eyes seemingly glazed over. Blood escaped from the bullet wound, defying the protection of their hands. “Oh god, Alexander, I…” Burr couldn’t stand the terrified look he could make out on Hamilton’s face, as if Aaron was some kind of monster. “I didn’t-… I didn’t mean to…” He brought an arm around Hamilton’s waist, causing Alexander to raise his arms away from the wound. “I need to get you help…" 

 

"Burr… I-I…” Alexander stuttered, fear coating his once confident voice, now weak and fragile. Before Alexander could finish his sentence, sirens roared from behind them. An ambulance and a police car pulled up beside the alley, a posse of doctors, officers, and a gurney exiting and coming towards the two. Flashing lights illuminated the area, giving Burr a more gruesome look at the damage he had done. He cringed. 

 

"Step away! Put the gun down and raise your hands in the air. Now!“ The first officer pointed a taser at Burr. He carefully placed Alexander on the ground and stood, squinting as he was blinded by the lights blaring from the set of cars. The doctors rolled the gurney down to the back of the alley, pushing it to a stop. 

 

Two doctors ran over to Hamilton, attempting to help him up, only to be pushed away by the weak Alexander. "Kid, let us get you up, we’re only trying to help…” A doctor put an arm around his waist, acting as a support. Alex started to squirm, weakly trying to escape the man’s grip. He couldn’t let Burr get arrested. Alexander was the one who had started this mess, it was his fault that he had gotten shot. 

He needed to help him. 

“L-let him go!” Alexander shouted, coughs starting to occupy his throat. 

 

He struggled as the doctors pushed him away, trying to bat his arms at them, to do something, anything at all to escape them and get to Burr. He slowly grew weaker, his attempts getting less and less strong. He could see Burr being harshly ushered away into the police car in the distance, officers pushing him in.

 

"Kid, I’m warning you, I don’t wanna have to sedate you…“ Another doctor cautioned. He calmed a bit; only the image of a glimmering, sharp needle used for the sole purpose of knocking a man unconscious stopping him from attempting to punch the guy in the face. 

 

Before he could comprehend the consequences of this decision, he was thrown onto the gurney, straps being attached around his ankles, waist, and chest. They were incredibly tightened, squeezing him so he could barely breathe. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get out. He was trapped. He stopped struggling, his energy drained and any hope of escape gone. His eyes began to come to a close. He just couldn’t manage to stay awake any longer. 

 

The thought of Burr suffering in a cell for the remainder of his life led Hamilton into a dark, harsh, sleep.


	2. It Was Aaron Burr, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First he's shot by his former friend, and now he's confined within a stuffy hospital room, resting on a cot that one could easily mistake for a boulder.
> 
> Let's just say, things aren't going the best for college freshman Alexander Hamilton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!
> 
> you seemed to enjoy the first chapter, which i am super greatful for like aaaa thank you!
> 
> i've been itching to introduce more characters into this fic, so this chapter is coming faster than most, so here's an early disclaimer that it'll usually take a day or two to update this ;;
> 
> also, in one of the paragraphs, there is a sentence with combined/slurred words (likethisforexample). that wasn't an error! i tried to show the panic and just pure emotion of that scene by experimenting with the phrasing. hopefully you guys get what i was trying to do, and if not, my apologies for the confusion! ;;
> 
> quick warning for lams fluff, friends being friends, alexander being a precious scared child in the hospital and lots of angst.

Alexander felt himself moving. 

 

He couldn’t remember much, about why he was here, why he felt such agonizing pain in his abdomen. All he remembered was himself squirming, trying to escape something, someone’s grip.

 

His eyes fluttered as he attempted to make out his surroundings. Everything moved in an endless blur, as if he were being moved by some vehicle.

 

Wait.

 

He turned his head to the side, his neck obviously sore. He could see the bottoms of hospital slippers and dress shoes clattering atop a tiled floor. The cringeworthy stench of hand sanitizer carried an unpleasant aroma throughout the air. 

 

He knew where he was far too well.

 

He was in a hospital.

 

His mind flashed back to a posse of muffled voices, those feverish dreams, his mother’s frail face, the damed doctor who had broken the news to him of her death after he had recovered. He jerked his head, trying to rid of the awful memories, but they just kept flooding in. 

 

He breathed heavily, wondering if someone had died, if he had somehow relapsed, if history had begun to repeat itself. Nightmarish thoughts flooded his mind, and he couldn’t simply dodge them or wish them away. 

 

He couldn’t talk, couldn’t scream for help, it was as if he had been muted by some kind of remote. He was terrified. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping, praying that he could somehow just whisk all of this away. His breaths came out weak and shuddered, as if he were dying. 

 

Was he dying?

 

He could hear the panicking, conversing of the doctors, and felt a needle of some sort being stabbed into his wrist. Or was he imagining it? He couldn’t tell. He opened his eyes, pupils dilated in fear, and tried to just focus on the ceiling, think of something joyful.

 

All that came to mind was his mother. His mother, was she somehow still alive? Was she okay? Was she dead? Were his friends dead? He grimaced, asthoughtskeptcomingshittheywon’tstopcoming-

 

Until,

 

Suddenly,

 

He grew unsettlingly calm. 

 

“Sorry, kid, you were freaking out, it was for the best...” A nurse tried to reassure Alexander as a wave of exhaustion flooded his body. 

 

Why was he so tired...? Was that needle... Was it a sedative...? 

 

His thoughts quickly merged into a massive blur as he was forcefully settled into a deep, uneasy sleep.

 

 

“Alex-Alexander?” 

 

Alexander blinked, his eyes slowly focusing into view. His head was angled upwards towards the ceiling, which bore a sickeningly pristine white. His entire body felt sore, as if he had been resting on a rock. He heard footsteps echoing towards him. 

 

“A-are you awake? Did I wake you up? If I did, I’m really sorry-”

 

“I’m okay, I-... It’s fine,” he croaked out. It took him a moment to acknowledge just how raspy his voice was. It was usually much broader and more powerful, but it had somehow deteriorated to a weak, hoarse whisper. 

 

He craned his head to get a closer look at the figure hovering over the boulder-cot. He could make out a freckled face, glistening eyes, beautiful curls...

 

Ah, yes, John Laurens, the cutest roommate to exist in the entire span of the universe. Alexander smiled, grateful that he wasn’t in isolation.

 

“John,” He forced out. He began to notice the sandpaper-like quality of his throat. He coughed, nearly spitting out his lung. God, he was a mess. “Erm... W-why am I here, anyway? I can’t exactly remember...” He scrolled through his memories, trying to find some clue to why he fell so ill in the first place to have to resort to a hospital. 

 

“Well, uh, you were kinda shot... in the rib... by-”

 

Alex interrupted. “By who?”

 

“Are you sure you want to know?” John cautioned, only to have Alex sternly nod, immediately wincing from the pure soreness of his neck. John took a deep breath, and announced solemnly,

 

“You were shot by Aaron Burr.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there were any errors or typos of sorts! i was a bit wiped out while writing this haha;;
> 
> hope you enjoyed, and any comments, compliments, or criticisms are welcome!
> 
> also alex somehow still doesnt remember shit


End file.
